362 FULL SUMMER AT LAST 



Himalayan cuckoo, whose extraordinary note had at- 

 tracted my attention some days previously. 



The heat had been great during the last two days, 

 with scarcely a breath of wind stirring, and the snow had 

 melted everywhere except a few patches here and there 

 in the forests, where it had drifted to an unusual depth. 

 The river had fallen considerably, and only now and 

 then a stray block of ice was to be seen floating down the 

 Kureika. The Ostiaks were busy fishing, and three 

 chooms were pitched on our side of the river and four on 

 the other. The season had not yet fairly commenced, 

 the water was very cold, and fish were very scarce, but 

 every day brought fresh signs of the rapid approach of 

 summer, and the Ostiaks were very busy and evidently 

 in high spirits at the close of the long winter. I visited 

 each fresh family that arrived, in hopes of picking up 

 something interesting, but they were all evidently very 

 poor. From one man who seemed a little more enter- 

 prising than the others I procured a rude kind of spoke- 

 shave which he was using to plane his new oars into 

 shape, and a drill which was almost the exact model of 

 one I bought from a Samoyede in the Petchora. The 

 Ostiak told me that he had made these tools himself. 



The 22nd of June was oppressively hot, with a slight 

 breeze occasionally from the south. It was evident that 

 not only had summer come in earnest, but migratory birds 

 also had finished coming. Though I diligently took my 

 round in the forest every morning, I found many birds 

 conspicuous by their absence, and had no new arrivals to 

 chronicle. The Arctic willow-warbler was now very 

 common, and the principal songster. Besides its song it 

 utters an occasional note, sometimes a single one, dzt, 

 sometimes made into a double note by dwelling upon the 

 first part, d-z, zit. Little buntings were also there in 



